


Make a wish, and take a bite

by graham_humberts_shoelace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anti Regina Mills O O P, Before ep 7 aka Gremma are mostly just flirting and have not done Anything about it, Emma and Graham were true loves and no I don't take any criticism, F/M, Graham does not cope like a hooman, Henry is a Sad Boi someone hug him, Or Will They, Regina stans pls don't read because I do not talk about her positively in this, aka got poisoned by an apple, bumped up the age rating given the end of chapter 4, dubious consent given that Graham is literally FORCED to obey her every command, in which Emma is more like her mother than we thought, very anti-Regina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graham_humberts_shoelace/pseuds/graham_humberts_shoelace
Summary: To show her thanks for the Sheriff and his Deputy's fine work during the mines disaster, the Mayor sends a basket of apples to their office.Emma takes a bite of one and falls into a coma. The doctors say it's to do with the brain. Henry isn't convinced, Mary Margaret is scared, and Graham is...well, Graham's terrified he's going to lose her. The one ray of colour in Storybrooke, the woman who makes him feel.
Relationships: Huntsman | Sheriff Graham/Emma Swan, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Comments: 16
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to arianakristine for inspiring me to write Gremma fanfiction for the first time and for helping me come up with the idea for this fic! Her tumblr is arianakristine.tumblr.com and y'all should check out her stuff!!!

"Any particular reason there's a basket of apples on your desk?" is the first thing Graham asks when he comes into the station, squinting at the picture perfect basket filled to the brim with the shiniest and reddest apples he's ever seen. Quite frankly... it feels as though he's looking at fake ones, they look far too lovely to be real.

Emma answers him by holding up a Thank You card, her brows arched and amusement shining in her eyes. "The Madam Mayor wanted to thank us for our work ethic during the mining collapse." she shrugs, offering him the card and leaning back in her chair.

He skims over the contents, finding what Emma had said to be... well, pretty much what had been written in the overpriced looking card. He hums, setting it down on a desk. "How kind of her. Though you're the one who did all the work, really." he grins, a grin that gets wider at the look on her face. Surprised eyes, raised brows, an awkward quirk to her lips. Briefly, he thinks about how Henry gets the same awkward smile as his mother. _Birth mother_ , he corrects in his head. A correction that makes his stomach twist, bizarrely. Perhaps it's because, already, in these last few weeks, Emma had shown more care for Henry and his well being and wants than Regina ever had in the ten years she's raised him. 

"I don't know about that." she hums, leaning her elbows on the desk and looking at him, tilting her head to the side. Graham hums at her, handing her the coffee he'd gotten from Granny's. It had been a slow morning, and thus he had taken it upon himself to get himself and Emma coffee from Granny's. Usually, the pot of coffee at the station did the trick. But after the day they'd had yesterday? Well, he figured that Emma deserved something nice. She takes a sip, scrunching up her nose a little in confusion. She looks at him again, holding up her cup of coffee. "How'd you know I-"

"Have a taste for the sweeter things?" he asks, smiling and taking a sip from his own to go cup. Black, not a drop of milk or a grain of sugar. Keeps him awake, alert. That and he rather likes the taste of bitter coffee. "Emma, we work together. I've seen you put an unholy amount of sugar in your coffee. Oh, Willy Wonka is wondering where all his sugar is going, by the way. Should I lead him off your trail?"

"Hilarious." she deadpans, and he grins innocently at her, knowing the joke really was not the best he'd ever cracked. "But I didn't realise you were watching me put my sugar in my coffee, Sheriff." she says, taking another sip of her sweet coffee. Five sachets of sugar, sometimes six, and a splash of cinnamon syrup. Briefly, he wonders if she's a big fan of those fancy iced drinks, the too sweet ones that honestly taste more like ice cream than coffee.

He'll have to ask her sometime.

"Mostly because each time I keep thinking, maybe she'll stop at one... or two... or three-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point." she waves him off, taking another sip and looking at the report on her desk. Mostly just to keep track of the incident from yesterday. "I don't know how you can handle the paperwork." 

"Well, we're a small town." he hums, leaning against the desk and quietly observing her a moment as she goes through the report. "Not like much happens here, so I didn't get much paperwork... until, of course, you came to town, Deputy Swan." he grins into his cup, and she throws him a look. The 'god be quiet' one that delighted him to no end. 

Then again, most of the looks Emma Swan gives him delight him to no end.

"Right." she says, not looking entirely convinced. She looks at him, for a moment, as if wanting to ask something. Graham arches his brows at her, waiting for her question. But... disappointingly, she goes back to the report.

He clears his throat and ceases leaning against her desk. "I'll just... be-"

"Patrolling your office?" she asks, looking up at him with a smile. A lock of her hair falls into her face from the movement, and he _itches_ to brush it behind her ear, itches to brush his fingers along her jaw, her cheek, _anything_ , just to see if she's... what? If she enjoys his touch as much as he enjoys hers?

It might be just a little pathetic how much he reacts to her touch. The absentminded pats to the shoulder or arm, the gentle press of her hand on his back as she moves past him, her fingers brushing against his neck when she straightens his collar with some sarcastic comment about dressing with his eyes closed. All minor, meaningless touches... meaningless touches that mean the _world_ to Graham. He tries not to think about why. Tries not to think about how Emma Swan makes him _feel_. How she's the one bright spark of colour in this town. The one who often stands up to their own Mayor, who tries to do the right thing.

He tries, and as of lately, he fails. 

"Patrolling my office." he confirms, watching her brush her hair back from her face. He lingers a moment, before promptly turning on his heel and going to his office, closing the door behind him. "Christ." he mutters, closing his eyes a second before sitting down at his desk. Might as well try to get _something_ done.

* * *

She watches him go into his office, fingers idly running over the lid of the to go cup, a thoughtful look on her face. 

It wasn't the first time Graham had gotten her coffee. But it was the first time he opted to add the sugar for her, and even the splash of cinnamon syrup she can faintly taste. And... such a small gesture shouldn't mean so much to her, right? It's only natural that her boss, who she spends a lot of time with at work, figures out exactly how she likes her coffee. And even improves upon it. Case being; cinnamon syrup. God, a genius idea, and one she decides she'll implement more often when ordering coffee from Granny's.

Emma takes another sip, licking her lips once she's swallowed the sweet coffee. It's a little frustrating how easy Graham's coffee order would be. Just a black coffee. No milk, sugar, syrups or anything else. She wishes she had something hard to remember, something that would... what, impress him? She snorts a little at the thought, setting down her to go cup. She doesn't need to impress Graham. He's her boss and friend. Why would she need to impress him outside of a professional manner?

 _You know exactly why, Emma_ , a voice snickers in her head. She tries to ignore it. Graham is... a complicated issue. Not that he's an _issue_ but... what else can she call it? He's nothing but kind and polite to her, remembers her coffee order and love for sweet things, makes the stupidest jokes, he's ruggedly handsome and god if that doesn't make her weak in the knees. He cares about Henry, so much that she has to wonder if he's a father figure to the kid. Henry certainly looks up to him and talks of him fondly. 

The Huntsman, Henry had told her. That was who Graham had supposedly been. And... she's not saying she believes in the whole fairytale characters thing, but once Henry had told her everything about this Huntsman... she supposes she could see it. Maybe. Kinda.

Emma groans softly, rubbing her forehead before glancing to the basket of apples. That there is another problem. Regina. The endlessly frustrating problem. She picks up an apple, tossing it up in the air and catching it a few times. Regina was cold, stern, somehow struck fear into _everybody_. And, yeah, sure, Emma had never planned on getting to know the son she'd given up long ago. Had wanted to ignore the ache in her arms from the missed opportunity of years of holding him, soothing him, hell even arguing with him. But she could ignore it no longer, not when she saw the woman who was raising him. Not when she saw how he was treated.

She doesn't want to throw the term "emotional abuse" around lightly, especially not as someone who'd suffered it herself. But... Henry deserves better. And _maybe_ Emma isn't it but... at least she's trying to be a positive person in his life, right? 

The apple lands in her hand with a soft slap, and Emma stares at it a moment. She swears she can almost see her reflection in the damn thing. The least she can do is try and get on Regina's good side and say 'Oh hey, you do grow amazing apples'. It's the lamest goddamn start, but it's a _start_. Rome wasn't built in a day and whatnot.

"Better be the best fucking apple I've ever had." she mutters, bringing the ruby red fruit to her lips and taking a bite. She chews on it thoughtfully, looking up at the ceiling. It does taste pretty good, Regina was right about that much, she supposes. She doesn't care much for apples but... if it makes Henry's life easier to get along with Regina, starting with a damn apple, then she'll do it. She just wants Henry to be _happy_. 

A little cough escapes her once she swallows the bite. _Must've went down wrong_ , she thinks, patting her chest with an uncomfortable grimace. Another cough. Emma takes a few gulps of her coffee to try and help that. Instead, she splutters on that, setting the cup down with a rather choked sounding groan. She stands up, intending to grab a bottle of water and hope that helps. Her legs give out before she can even take a step, and she knocks into the desk on her way down. _Ow_. She lays on her back, gasping softly for breath and clutching the apple a little tighter in her hand. Her chest _aches_ , and everything feels so _heavy._ She hears a door slam open, sees Graham leaning against the doorway, clutching his chest and staring at her.

"Guh-" she chokes out, stretching her arm out to him. "Graham..." he rushes over towards her at the sound of his name, pure _panic_ on his face as he gently grabs her face in his hands, making her look at him.

"Emma, hey-" he says, eyes so impossibly terrified. "-hey, what's happening, Emma- I'm- I'm gonna call an ambulance, okay? Just wait there a second, alright?" he gives her what he must think is a reassuring smile, before rushing to her desk and grabbing the phone. She can hear him dialling, can hear him rambling everything to the operator.

Emma tries to open her mouth, tries to tell him about the apple, that she's choking, or _something_. But her mouth doesn't co-operate with her. Nothing about her body is co-operating with her right now. A pitiful groan escapes her, and her vision swims in such a way that she feels sick. She closes her eyes, the room seeming to go silent. She wonders if this is what oblivion is like, if it is... she welcomes it with open arms.

* * *

Graham does a spin in his chair as he takes a sip of his coffee, staring up at the ceiling. He hated paperwork. He could agree with Emma about that much. It was the most bland part of the job. But... required. His are some more serious cases, some assaults, one theft. Really, Storybrooke isn't the most fully fledged criminal town in the world. He sets down his coffee and straightens his tie a little, hoping Emma hadn't seen him spinning around in his chair... though, actually, she might join him in spinning around to escape the paperwork. 

He's midway through writing up one of the assault charges when a pang hits his chest. Absentmindedly, he rubs at the spot it had struck, right where his heart was. Aches and pains... he's all too familiar with them. But hey, he brushes them off like a champ. So, he focuses back on the report, before the pain hits him again. He groans softly, throwing down his pen and resting his head against his chair. The pain deepens, and a hiss escapes through his teeth. That's when there's a thud from outside of his office. A cold, all consuming fear grips him. _Emma._ Something is wrong with Emma. He has to get to Emma. He spares no thought for why he's suddenly feeling fear, when he never usually feels much of anything. He stumbles out of the chair and runs for the door, throwing it open and taking a moment to lean against the doorway.

He stares at her limp form, at her paling face and tired looking eyes. But then she says his name, and he finds himself falling to his knees beside her, clutching her face in his hands. He tries to reassure her, tries to figure out what's wrong- ambulance, he needs to call an ambulance. 

Fifteen minutes, they tell him. He instead tells the hospital he'll get there in five. He has to, for Emma. He hangs up and turns to her. 

She isn't moving.

"No." he states simply, collapsing beside her, trembling hands reaching out to find a pulse. _Thank god_. It's faint, but it's there. "You're gonna be fine, Emma. You're gonna be fine. Just gotta... gotta take you to the hospital, and you'll get fixed right up." he tells her, smoothing her hair back from her face. If he wasn't so terrified, he might think she almost looks peaceful right now. But he has no time. He crouches and pulls her into his arms, before standing up and adjusting his hold on her a little. She's shockingly light. The apple falls from her hand and rolls a little until it hits the doorway of his office. 

_Save her, keep her safe. Save her. Keep her safe._ He runs out of the station and straight for his car, opening the door to the backseat and carefully laying Emma inside. He takes a moment to brush her hair out of her face again, before, with a start, he realises she's _cold._

Get to the hospital. He can do that.

He closes the door and hops into the front seat, turning on the car and speeding off into the road. He turns on the sirens, just for good measure. He gets there in six minutes, passing the occasional stoplight and frequently glancing in the mirror to check on Emma. Still pale, but still breathing. He parks the car and gets out, gently lifting her out and into his arms once more. Briefly, he thinks about how right she feels in his arms. Where she's safe, where he can protect her. But he ignores that thought and bolts for the entrance. There's already staff waiting, and Whale almost leisurely strolls out from out of goddamn nowhere. 

"Help her." is all Graham is able to croak out. Nurses are gently taking Emma from his arms and are moving her to a gurney. He wants to protest, wants to pull her back into his arms and never let go, wants to _maim_ anyone who tries to take her away from him. He freezes a little at that line of thought, wondering when he'd gotten so protective over his Deputy.

 _Since you were confronted with losing her,_ his mind taunts. It sounds awfully like Regina's voice. God he hates that. He slumps down onto a chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, keeping his eyes on the door they'd pushed Emma through. 

And now, he waits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry thinks about the past and learns about Emma's situation.

Henry brushes his fingers over the title of his book, brows pinched together and lips pursed lightly. How could he get Emma to believe? She humoured him, let him explain the characters in his book, let him talk about who he thought was who. But she still didn't _believe_. Which, quite frankly, is going to be a problem if she's to break the curse.

A soft sigh escapes the boy, and he opens the book, pouring over the pages as if containing the answers he needs. He's read this book over twenty times by now, and he knows there won't be any secret answers or messages on how to get Emma to believe. If only there was something he could do to show her, or say to her, that might trigger something. Not that she'd have memories of the Enchanted Forest, but... god, he doesn't know. He turns the page of his book.

The Huntsman stares back at him; clothed in furs and leather, and a sad look on his face. Henry tilts his head a little, running his fingers along the drawing. Graham had been relatively easy to figure out. He hadn't gone through any drastic changes from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke. He still had the same scruffy beard, the same hair. Only the clothes had changed and... well, the lack of a _heart._ He frowns a little at the thought, shifting uncomfortably. He can't comprehend someone wanting to hurt Graham. 

The man who told corny jokes, the man who snuck Henry candy bars every so often, the man who was kind to everybody. The man who had found Henry when he had first run away at the age of four.

* * *

Six years ago

Regina hadn't seemed too surprised with Henry running away. It made Graham uneasy, quite frankly. She'd barely given him details about what had caused him to run off, had simply told, no, commanded Graham to find him. Something that, with or without Regina's command, Graham would have done regardless. He opts not to get his other officers out looking for the boy, as he has a feeling where the kid would be.

And Graham is proved right when he walks along the seafront and spots the boy in the castle. Chocolate around his face and his knees hugged to his chest, but most definitely young Henry. The sight almost breaks Graham's heart.

_Almost._

Weird, but he moves past it, shining his torch in Henry's direction, but careful not to shine it in his eyes. "Henry?" he calls out, making his way up to the castle. "Now, what are you doing here, huh?" he asks, climbing into the spot beside the boy. A little awkward and a tight fit, this play-set isn't made for adults after all.

"Running away." he states simply, looking up at Graham with impossibly large eyes. Large eyes that are red and wet with tears. "You won't tell her, Mr Graham? Please don't-"

"Hey," he soothes, reaching over and giving the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Why don't you tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, tapping Henry's forehead. "My mind reading skills don't work on smart boys."

"They don't?" Henry asks, peering up at him, curious.

Graham shakes his head, glancing at Henry's backpack. Candy bars, some comic books and what looks like a Chewbacca doll. The necessities, of course. "No, no. Boys and girls that read comic books are too smart for me, they've got the power to block people reading their thoughts." 

"Cool." is all he gets from the boy, his eyes full of amazement. Regina might call it 'gullible', Graham likes to think of it as seeing the good and fun stuff in the world. He'd brought it up once; letting Henry's imagination roam free, let him be an imaginative child. Regina had shut it down pretty quick.

"Just cool?"

"Super duper awesome cool?" Henry offers, smiling hopefully at him.

A grin comes to Graham at that, and he lets out a low whistle. "Now, that's an impressive amount of cool. Not sure I can handle it, Henry."

"But don't Sheriffs handle everything?" he asks, curious, tilting his head to the side.

"That we do, lad," he ruffles his hair. "That we do. Now... gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asks, a little more gently this time, before looking through Henry's bag for a tissue. There's a packet right at the bottom, and he takes one out, looking at Henry's face. Regina would have a _fit_ if she saw the chocolate covering her son's face. "Would you mind if I clean you up a little? You look like you dived head first into a big bowl of chocolate, mister."

A sheepish smile comes to Henry's chocolate covered face, but he soon shakes his head. "I'm a big boy, Mr Graham," he tells him proudly, and Graham arches a brow in amusement. "I'm four!" he holds up four little fingers, waving them in Graham's face.

"I remember, Henry." he tells him fondly, handing him the tissue. Henry starts rubbing at his face with it. "Star Wars themed party, how could I forget?"

"That was fun," Henry says, stuffing the dirty tissue back into his bag. His face looks considerably less chocolatey already. Then, a loud sigh comes from him, and his little shoulders slump. It's odd, how such an action makes Graham's heart drop to his stomach, makes him want to hold the boy close and then yell at Regina. He doesn't often think of yelling at the woman but... something about Henry just makes Graham a little... protective? Is that the right word. Whatever it is... he isn't a big fan of seeing the boy upset.

"Henry?" he prompts quietly, resting his hand back on the kid's shoulder.

"It's just..." he fidgets, unease on his face. "I don't think mommy loves me very much." he admits, not looking at him. "She says she does, but I think she's making it up."

"Oh... Henry, no." he says, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Your mother loves you very much-"

"No she doesn't!" he shrieks, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. "She- she doesn't listen, she just pretends to! Just like how she pretends to love me!" he opens his eyes and looks up at him, a fresh round of tears making their way down his cheeks. "Why doesn't mommy love me?"

Graham is quite certain that he's never seen a more heartbreaking scene. And... Regina won't be happy about it, but he pulls Henry into a hug, rubbing one hand up and down his back while the other cradles his head to his shoulder. Henry clings onto him, sobbing into his shoulder. "Let it out, Henry. Just let it out." he soothes, idly rocking back and forth with him. He waits until the sobs slow down to tears, waits for the tears to slow down to the occasional hiccup and sniffle. Only then does he speak. "Your mother..." he starts, looking down at Henry. "She loves you, lad. She's just got an odd way of showing it is all." _Odd indeed._

"Like how?"

"Well, she helps you with your numbers and letters, doesn't she?" he asks, and the boy nods. "And she makes you that special soup when you're sick, the one you told me about." another nod. "And she makes sure you've got plenty of toys and comics?" another nod. Though... quite frankly, Graham's already running out of examples. Most of them... well, it feels like he's saying Regina's buying Henry's love. Not that Henry would be able to understand that concept, given that he's four. "She's strict sometimes, and she gets distracted because of her job, but your mother loves you, Henry."

There's silence, for a moment. "I wanna go home." Henry murmurs, sniffing one last time and moving away from Graham, rubbing his eyes. "...but can I get a um... cocoa?"

"I don't see why not." he grins, hopping down from the castle. "You got everything?" he asks, hands on his hips.

"Yeah!" Henry nods, picking up his bag and standing up. He lets out a shriek of delight when Graham picks him up off of the tower, laughing. He's soon set down on the ground, and... though he insists that he's a 'big boy' now, he still feels tempted to ask to be picked up again. He's sure Graham would agree, too. Graham's cool. 

"Cinnamon and whipped cream?" Graham asks, smiling down at him. 

"Duh!" hesitantly... he reaches up and holds onto Graham's hand. Surprise comes to Graham's face, but it's soon gone. "Mr Graham?"

"Yeah, lad?" he asks, leading him down the path and to the car. 

"Thank you for finding me."

"Not a problem, Henry." he smiles down at him again, before opening the passenger door and helping Henry in and making sure he's buckled up. He gets into the driver's seat. "Can you promise me something?"

"Mhm!"

"The next time you want to run away... find me. Or if you don't want anyone to speak to you and need some time to calm down, go to the castle. Can you do that for me?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the road, though he does want to glance over and make sure Henry follows. He's sure he understands; smart kid and all. 

"...I can do that." Henry says after a minute or two of thinking, giving a determined nod. "It can be our secret base!" he gasps, looking utterly delighted.

A laugh escapes Graham, and he shakes his head. "Sure, Henry," he muses, grinning over at him briefly. "Whatever you want."

* * *

Henry smiles to himself at the memory, before lightly closing the book and hugging it to his chest. He's _almost_ glad for the curse. At least it gave him a friend in the shape of the local sheriff. Though... he can't help but wonder. If Emma had never given him up, if she'd tried raising him then... would he have friends? Sleepovers? Birthday party invites? Well, he got invited to birthdays, sure, but he _knows_ it's just because he's the Mayor's son. It's frustrating.

He hides the book under his bed when he hears his mother calling out for him. "Henry?" she calls out, opening the door and peering in.

"Yeah, mom?" he asks, raising his brows. She gives him a smile, a strained looking one, before crossing the room and perching on his bed.

"Henry... there's something you should know." she says softly, reaching out and taking one of his hands in hers. Fear coils in his gut. 

"...Mom?" he asks, looking at her with wide eyes. She looks upset, but he _knows_ better. He recognises that the emotion in her eyes is different to the one she plasters on her face. "What's happened?"

Regina pauses a moment, before taking a deep breath. "Miss Swan has... had an accident, Henry." she tells him softly, and he feels the fear suddenly spread to every inch of his body. "I didn't want to upset you but I think it's best you find out from me."

"What kind of accident?" he asks numbly, trying not to think of his birth mother, of whom he was growing closer to every day, laid out on some hospital bed entirely _helpless_. He thinks Emma would hate that. 

"The um... doctors think it was brain aneurysm, they're still running tests I'm afraid. But you should know that right now, she's comatose and..." she trails off, and Henry isn't _stupid_. He slides his hands away from Regina's, mouth opening and closing a few times.

"What did you do?" he gasps, hands shaking. "Mom, what did you do?!"

Irritation bleeds out of every inch of her face. "Henry, for god's sake! I'm not some... some evil Queen! Miss Swan merely had some sort of issue with the brain, _that_ is not my fault, it's no one's fault!"

"Yeah, it is!" he counters, glaring at her. "Yours!" he bolts out of his room, ignoring his mother's shouts for him to come back. He runs down the stairs and out onto the street, running straight into... Mary Margaret on her way home, or to the hospital, he's not sure.

"Woah! Henry-" she says, reaching out to steady him, brows pinched together with concern. "-Are you alright? You're trembling." she reaches out to press a hand against his forehead, but he brushes her off.

"There's no time! Emma's in hospital, my mom just told-"

"Emma's what?" she breathes, looking horrified. _Why did no one tell her first?_ He thinks with a scowl. Then, he remembers, no one knows that Mary Margaret is Emma's mother. Still, she's her roommate, and no one thought to tell her?

"Something about the brain but- well, I don't buy it!"

He hates the pitying look on her face. He knows she means well, but he hates it nonetheless. "Henry... sometimes life just isn't fair about-"

"Are you coming with me or not?!" he asks, glaring a little. Now is not the time for pity, now is the time to save Emma. Mary Margaret nods and is soon walking briskly with him to the hospital, gentle leading him by the arm. He doesn't mind, not once he realises how concerned she is for Emma.

It's lucky, really, that Henry only lives a twenty minute walk away from the hospital. He lingers by the entrance while Mary Margaret makes her way to the receptionist to talk to her and find out more information.

Five minutes later, she comes over to him, smiling gently, though he can see that her eyes are a little red. "Emma's going to be fine, Henry." she tells him... and she sounds unsure. It makes him feel a little sick. "I'm guessing your mom already told you what it was?" he nods, and she blows out a little sigh of relief. "Okay... well, we can go and see her now. You just have to be very gentle around her, okay?"

"Okay." he says, and she smiles at him again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him to the room she'd been told Emma was in. He doesn't really pay attention to the number, or his surroundings, he just has to know his m- that _Emma_ is alright.

Mary Margaret opens the door and he heads inside. The first thing he notices is Emma on the bed, strapped up to a bunch of wires and machines, looking impossibly small and fragile. Emma Swan is anything but fragile, so it's rather unnerving to see her in such a way. The second thing...

"Sheriff?" he asks, blinking with surprise at the sight of him. Graham is sat in the chair by Emma's side, staring at her face and gently holding onto her hand with both of his. His jacket is over the back of the chair and his tie is hanging loose around his neck. He doesn't move at Henry's voice, and Henry looks up at Mary Margaret with concern on his face. "Why's he...?" the woman shrugs a little, before stepping into the room and cautiously approaching Graham like you would an animal.

"Graham?" she calls out softly, reaching out and resting her hand on his shoulder. He jumps a little, whirling around to face her, his eyes settle on Henry, then Mary Margaret again. 

"Sorry I-" he sighs, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry. Been a long day." he explains, rubbing his face with one hand, the other still holding onto Emma's hand. Henry observes that with curiosity and files away the information for later.

"How's she doing?" Mary Margaret asks, looking at Emma, reaching out and smoothing her hair out of her face. It's such a motherly gesture that Henry has to resist the urge to shout about it. Graham, however, is watching the movement like a hawk, as if such a simple gesture would bother Emma. He's quick to relax though, once he realises it won't.

"I... I haven't really been able to take anything in." Graham admits, looking a little embarrassed. "All I know is that they said she's stable for now. You'd um... you'd have to check with a nurse to be completely sure." he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, looking over at Henry. "Are you alright, Henry?" he asks him, and Henry shrugs at him. 

"Sort of? I... I don't really know how to..." he gestures around the room, finding himself unable to express his thoughts. Graham seems to understand though. "I just want her to wake up." he finally settles with, coming over to the bed and taking her other hand in one of his own. "She'll wake up." he says, the tone of his voice clearly leaving no room for argument.

"...Henry-" Mary Margaret starts, but a look from Graham makes her quiet.

"She'll wake up." Henry repeats, looking at Emma's face. At the features he recognises merely from looking in the mirror. The features of his mom. A wave of guilt waves over him at calling her that, even in his head. Regina had tried to raise him well, right? Surely she alone deserved the title of 'mom'. He'll think more about it later, he's sure. It's not exactly a topic that's gonna go away. He squeezes Emma's hand, then looks up at her face eagerly. No reaction, not even a stir or flutter of the eyes. His shoulders slump a little. "She has to." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Henry skips school and Graham thinks more on his feelings.

Graham closes the door behind him, sighing softly. He chucks his keys onto the entryway table, running his hand through his hair and toeing off his boots. The hospital's visitation hours were 8am to 9pm, it had been ten past nine when Graham had left. Or, rather, been gently nudged out by some nurses. Emma would still be there in the morning if he wanted to check on her and spend time with her for a few minutes before heading to the station. 

It'd be odd, he thinks. Going to the station and not having Emma come in- always on time, always mumbling something about parking or her car being slow. She'd pour herself a cup of coffee (he always made sure to brew it ten minutes before he knew she'd show up), put in her five or six sugars and come into his office to chat. They always tended to put off paperwork first thing in the morning unless _absolutely_ necessary. Graham would crack some lame joke, and Emma would roll her eyes at him with a smile barely hidden by her cup of coffee.

Yeah, he's not looking forward to tomorrow. Which is... odd, considering he'd spent the last several years as Sheriff, often alone in the office. Not counting the occasional helping hand from volunteers. You'd think he'd be used to being alone in the office.

He's grown too used to Emma's presence. From her too sweet tastes regarding her hot drinks, to her signature red jacket hanging up on the coat stand. From the way the sunlight would shine through the window and make her hair look like liquid gold that he _itched_ to run his fingers through, from the way the left corner of her lips tended to pull up a little more when she smiled and-

Oh _christ_ he's got it bad.

A groan escapes him and he thumps his head against the door for a moment. When did _that_ happen? Of course, he's aware that he's attracted to Emma- has been for a while- and that he enjoys spending time with her, but thinking about the finer details of her features? Of her little quirks and habits? When did he start that?

"Get it together." is all he finds himself able to say, pushing away from the door and loosening his tie, pulling that over his head and making his way to the kitchen. He finds he isn't so hungry, opting to just grab a pear from the fruit bowl so he can say he at least ate something. He takes a bite and heads to his bedroom, finding himself thinking about the basket of apples that would still be at the station.

He'd never been particularly fond of the fruit, funnily enough. Always finding himself just a _little_ uncomfortable at the thought of eating one. A snort escapes him at that. He's been thinking about Henry's stories far too often, clearly, if _apples_ make him uncomfortable. 

Graham quickly finishes off the pear and chucks the core into the wastebasket by his dresser. He unbuttons his shirt and waistcoat and throws those in the direction of his laundry basket, his pants soon following shortly after. He looks in his mirror, rubbing his chest with furrowed brows. He wonders if it's something he should get checked out. He's felt the occasional ache in his chest, but it's never hurt quite as bad as it had earlier today. It feels perfectly fine now, bizarrely. 

He shakes his head and pulls back the sheets, sliding under them and laying on his back, a hand behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling, feeling uneasy.

Really, he's just trying not to think of Emma alone in the hospital, looking so small in that damn bed. _She's not alone_ , he tries to reason, _she has staff around her that are all perfectly equipped to deal with anything and everything. You're just overreacting, Graham. Take a breath and calm yourself down. You know Emma would hate the fuss_.

He knows, and yet, he still worries. He _knows_ Emma will be fine, _knows_ she's in the best place possible for her at the moment. Except, a small part of him simply wants to march into the hospital, scoop her up, and take her somewhere he can keep her safe and keep a watchful eye over her. Actually, the more he thinks about it, the more appealing the idea sounds. _Jesus! What's the matter with you? You're not a damn animal, Graham! And Emma would wake herself up just to kick your shins for taking her out of a hospital._ He groans and runs his other hand down his face, shifting to lay on his side, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_Just sleep. You'll see her in the morning. You'll see that she's perfectly fine and well, and then you can move on with your day, maybe check in on her after work._

Yes, a reasonable plan. Very reasonable. God he hates being reasonable. His other plan of scooping Emma up and keeping her safe by himself is still sounding appealing. He buries his face in his pillow, sighing heavily through his nose.

Something tells him this is going to be a long night.

* * *

Henry never usually skips school or his classes. Or... well, he didn't until lately. He does his best to keep a high attendance, to keep his grades up in some attempt to make his mother proud. She is, for the most part, he supposes. Which is why he hopes she doesn't find out about today. He feigns illness thanks to a great 'cough until you throw up' technique he learned a while back. His mother doesn't know about his trick, Graham does, and was surprisingly stern about Henry not doing it. Henry remembers the chiding tone, the concerned frown. He'd been confused about why it had felt nice to have Graham sternly tell him not to do it again, to tell him a few reasons why it could be bad for his health. 

It hadn't clicked until a few years later that he realised it had felt oddly paternal, and it was something that had been... well not missing, but lacking in his life. He'd had maternal affection his whole life- or as much as his mother could spare anyway- but there had always been a distinct lack of a _present_ male figure in his life. 

He was Archie's patient, Marco was fond of him and would wave hello whenever they passed, Leroy often ignored his presence. He's sure there's more examples, but nothing had ever truly _stuck_ or had been there. It wasn't until that stern talking to from the Sheriff that Henry realised.

Graham was there. He wasn't constantly present of course, but he was _there_. He was always the one to find Henry whenever he 'ran away', always knew how to help calm him down and get him home, he'd even tried to teach him darts one time. Henry's aim had been terrible, but Graham had simply smiled and said it'd improve with time. He cared for him, and was a comfort to Henry. Even when he was lightly lecturing him about the dangers of trying to cough so hard he'd throw up.

You win some, you lose some.

So, once he's out of school, he briskly walks to the hospital. He'd 'called' his mother at the school to let her know he was coming home, and had promptly rushed out of the receptionist's office while trying not to look like he was rushing.

Emma needs him, so he feels like rushing would be allowed. But they also think he's just going home. So he contains himself until he's outside. He stops to unzip his backpack, pulling out his storybook and looking at it a moment. He can only hope this will do _something_. It had worked for Mary Margaret and David after all! He wonders if Emma would sigh, roll her eyes fondly and tell him 'sure kid, it'll work'. She doesn't believe, and that's okay. He'll help her to.

He'll read from start to finish, as many times as it takes. Because it _has_ to work, right? Even if she doesn't wake up immediately, he'll keep trying. He has to. He has to _hope_. 

Henry zips back up his backpack and slings it over his shoulders, clutching the storybook to his chest and walking a little faster. _Emma's not going anywhere,_ he tries to remind himself, but he needs all the time he can get to try and get through to her somehow. If this doesn't work then... well, he'll just have to think of something else, right?

He enters the hospital, the walk there nothing but a blur. He manages to slip past reception, almost ridiculously well. He'll have to tell Emma about his sneaking skills when she wakes up. He wonders if she'll be proud or will try to give him some stern words. Maybe both? He tries to remember his way from last time, and only gets lost once to his credit.

Ah, her room number! He pushes open the door, and there Emma sits, looking right as rain and shooting him a smile. "Hey, kid." she says, holding out her hand for him. He beams, turning around to close the door before moving to rush over to her, to tell her how happy he is that she's awake, that she's smiling and sitting up and-

He freezes when he realises Emma's laying there; the machines still attached to her and her eyes still closed. Nothing has changed from yesterday. "Of course not..." he murmurs to himself, before dropping his backpack by the door and taking off his coat. "Hi, Emma." he greets, pulling a chair over to sit beside her. "I think you can hear me. I read that some coma patients still hear people around them, it's pretty cool, actually. Didn't get some of the doctor talk on the website though." he admits, smiling sheepishly and shifting on the seat.

Emma remains still, there's no indication she's heard him. 

Henry sighs, before propping the book on his lap. "So, I know you don't care much for fairy tales. Most adults don't but... well, I hope this helps you believe and wake up, Emma. And if not then... I'll figure something else out, okay? I won't give up on you, I swear." he promises, finding himself reaching out to squeeze her hand. "So, I figured we could start from the beginning and see how this goes, right? You've always gotta start the best stories at the beginning." he shrugs, opening the book to the very beginning and taking a deep breath. "Once upon a time..."

* * *

Graham smiles at the receptionist as he signs the visitor book, making idle small talk before handing her back the pen and making his way down the hall. He's felt out of sorts all day. He hadn't managed to check in on Emma that morning, and he knows he's been a _little_ cranky all day. Too busy wondering about Emma to really pay much attention to his attitude. He thinks he's managed to reign it in okay, other than a few sharp comments throughout the day.

Really, he's coping fine.

He scratches at his jaw for a moment, taking a left and coming to the hallway Emma's room is at. He comes over to the door and... hears someone talking? He squints with confusion, leaning his ear against the door for a moment. It's a softer voice, a young boy's. _Henry's,_ he soon realises.

"-was no answer. After the eyes, Geppetto made the nose, which began to stretch as soon as finished. It stretched and stretched and stretched until it became so long, it seemed endless. Poor Geppetto kept cutting and cutting it, but the more he cut, the longer grew that impertinent nose. In despair, he left it alone-"

It feels almost like a crime when Graham softly knocks on the door and Henry's voice fades. He turns the handle and peers in, smiling at Henry. "Not a bad time, Henry?"

Henry looks relieved at the sight of him, and Graham wonders if he'd been expecting his mother. "No, not at all. We got a lot of the important stuff out of the way. Snow and Charming meeting, Rumpelstiltskin and Belle, the Huntman's past..." he looks at Graham at that, as if analysing him. "We can get back to Geppetto and Pinocchio tomorrow, and the rest of it." he decides, moving to close the book.

Oddly enough, Graham finds himself reaching out and stopping him, an action so instinctual he doesn't realise he's done it until Henry's peering up at him curiously. "I could... keep reading to her, if you'd like? I'm off duty right now."

Henry's eyes light up at that, and he nods eagerly. "Yeah! It might be good for her to hear another familiar voice. Probably sick of hearing mine for the last few hours-"

"Last few hours?" Graham asks, slowly raising his brows. Henry smiles sheepishly at him. "Henry, did you go to school today?"

"Well... you see-"

"Used the sick trick, didn't you?" 

"Might've."

"Henry," he sighs, taking the book from him and carefully setting it on the bed. He crouches down to Henry's level, raising his brows. "We've talked about this. And I'm sure Emma would agree with me that-"

"I'll try not to do it again!" Henry interrupts, glancing at Emma, then looking back at Graham. "...Promise you won't tell my mom?"

"Promise." he agrees easily, ruffling Henry's hair before standing up. "Your mother will be home soon, I suggest you get home, mister." the boy nods and gets out of the chair, pulling back on his jacket and backpack.

"Could you...?" he gestures to the book, biting his lip anxiously.

"I'll put it in the bedside cabinet." Graham promises, giving him a smile and sitting down in the seat Henry had vacated. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow, Henry."

"Bye, Graham!" he waves, before pausing and looking at Emma. "See you tomorrow, Emma." he says softly, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

There's silence the next few minutes, not counting the sound of the machines beeping and Emma's soft breathing. Graham runs his hand through his hair, looking at the book, then back at Emma. "I can only imagine your face when you find out I read you Pinocchio." Graham grins, reaching out and brushing his fingers over the back of her hand for a moment, then brushing them over her wrist to feel her pulse. It soothes him, just a little. "But hey, least you'd be awake, right?" he hums, picking up the book carefully. He looks over the pages for a moment, before finding where Henry had left off.

"Right, so..." he clears his throat a little, oddly self conscious. But he quickly gets over it when he remembers the happiness on Henry's face just minutes ago. "Next, he made the mouth. No sooner was it finished than it began to laugh and poke fun at him..." 

He reads for the next few hours, not stopping once. It feels wrong to, bizarrely. Like stopping would ruin... something. But what that something is, Graham can't place. He glances up at the clock and hides the book in the bedside cabinet. The visitation hours will close in five minutes. He stands up and stretches with a soft groan, pulling back on his jacket. 

He looks at Emma, at her peaceful face, at her golden hair fanned out over the pillow. He reaches out and tucks a lock behind her ear, finding that his fingers, then his hand, then his arm _tingles_ at the _mere feeling_ of her skin on his. It's intoxicating, it's terrifying. It's new. He slowly removes his hand from where it'd come to rest on her cheek, blowing out a soft sigh. "I'll be back tomorrow, Emma. I swear." he promises, finding himself leaning down, aiming to perhaps kiss her forehead-

But he pulls back at the last second, stepping away from her. That's... just a whole other level of weird he doesn't want to cross. It doesn't feel right to do such a thing when she's unconscious. Or maybe he's reading too much into it? Whatever the case, he's not quite sure he wants to cross it right now. Or ever? God, maybe he really is overthinking.

"Tomorrow." he says again, feeling as though his feet are almost glued to the spot at the thought of leaving her here alone. Every instinct _screams_ at him to stay with her, be by her side no matter what. But... he has a job, and the hospital has rules. He can't camp out in here just to be with her. So, reluctantly, Graham exits the room and softly shuts the door behind him, feeling as though he's just left a goddamn limb in the room with her. It takes a moment, but he makes his way down the hallways and leaves the hospital.

In the mean time, in her small hospital room with no one there to witness, Emma Swan's fingers twitch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which names are a powerful thing, and Graham fights with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I've bumped up the age rating bc........ well, the Graham and Regina stuff comes more into play at the end. I don't go too into it and likely never will go further than that but, tw for dubious consent/implied rape at the end of the chapter

Regina curls her lip, staring down at the papers on her desk. Her Huntsman is slacking. Foolishly distracted by _her_ , and his supposed concern towards her wellbeing. It's unnerving, the fact that he feels enough to vigilantly visit Emma each morning before work, and spend the rest of his night with her after work and until the hospital closed its doors to visitors. 

Visiting every few days wouldn't be so bad, Regina reasons, just a concerned Sheriff checking in on his deputy. But Graham visits _her_ at least once a day. 

She'd checked last night, had picked up his heart and focused on it. It beat steadily, as it had for the last thirty years. However, she could almost _hear_ it beating for another. 

_Em-ma, Em-ma, Em-ma._

It was sickening.

She resisted the urge to squeeze his heart until there was nothing left. Graham was supposed to be hers to control, hers to take to bed, hers _alone_. But then the fool had just _had_ to go and fall in love with his deputy.

For a moment, she _wonders_. Had heard tales of true love breaking any curse... it was impossible, right? There was no way _Emma Swan_ was the Huntsman's true love- especially since the woman cared about as much as relationships than she did a fly buzzing around her head.

The idea was laughable. 

But it was still an idea- niggling at the back of Regina's mind. She'd have to fix this, would have to make sure her Huntsman would not be so foolish to fall for another. Or, well, at least realise those feelings.

And then there was the matter of Henry, her son. Gold had to have been playing some sick joke on her when he chose Emma Swan's son for the adoption. Only he would pick a child with a mother as stubborn as a damn mule.

Of course that's not to say Regina doesn't love Henry... or that she tries to, anyway. She tries not to think about the many warnings she'd received before casting the curse; the warnings about the _emptiness_ that would reside in her. She'd ignored them, and perhaps that had been a mistake. Because sometimes the emptiness in her threatened to swallow her whole.

But, when she saw Mary Margaret and David beginning to distance themselves from each other, a smug smile would come to her lips and she'd think that just for _that_ , this curse was worth it. 

...and Henry, of course. He made things worth it.

With a sigh, Regina stands up, smoothing down her pencil skirt. She exits her study, silent as she makes her way to Henry's bedroom. He's asleep, sprawled out like a starfish and his mouth hanging open.

A mother might smile fondly, fixing the bedsheets and kissing his forehead before exiting the bedroom.

Regina mostly just sighs at the drool on his pillow, fixing his bedsheets before moving back... a piece of paper catches her eye- peeking out from under his bed. She furrows her brows, crouching down to pick it up.

Her blood runs cold.

Charming, with an infant in one arm and a sword in the other. The infant's blanket reads "Emma".

No.

She was the one who would break her curse?! Who would ruin _everything_ she'd worked so damn hard for?! Regina hisses through her teeth, shoving the paper back under Henry's bed before leaving his room.

She would not allow it. No, she had to put a stop to Graham visiting Emma right away. She would not risk everything being ruined because of that _bitch_. So, she marches downstairs and locks the front door behind her. Henry would be fine, it would be an hour at most. She had a visit to pay.

* * *

Graham sits down on his bed, toeing off his boots before flopping onto his back with a groan. Sitting in hospital chairs for hours on end was uncomfortable as hell, but he could ignore that. He wasn't sure if anything would stop him from being by Emma's side.

He rubs his face, grimacing when he realises he needs to shave. He'd never liked growing a full beard, and he was heading fast in that direction. He gets up and goes to the bathroom, turning on the light and looking at himself a moment. It'd been a while since he was clean shaven... so, he picks up the razor and shaving foam instead of his trimmers. 

He applies the foam to his face and grabs his razor, looking at himself in the mirror. _Exhausted_ , is the first word he'd think to describe himself. The dark bags under his eyes do nothing to hide his lack of sleep over the last couple of days. With a sigh, he brings the razor to his cheek.

He's halfway done when his chest aches, and he hisses through his teeth, dropping the razor and clutching the sink with tightly shut eyes.

_You will never visit Emma Swan in that hospital again. You will not touch her, you will not even DARE step foot in the same vicinity as her. You do not love her. You are not loyal to HER. You know where your loyalties lie._

"Fuck-" he curses, sliding to the floor with a gasp. He longs to obey the command, his body itching to do so. He doesn't know WHY he thought those commands, or why he wants to obey so badly, as if his life depends on it.

All he knows is that a part of him is protesting, screaming at the thought of not seeing Emma again, of making sure she's safe and well, that she gets out of this alive-

_You will not see Emma Swan ever again. You will stop loving her. You will stop caring for her. She's just the woman who came to this town to disrupt our lives, to try and steal Henry away. She's using you, don't you see? You're a pawn in her game. Protect your Queen._

His Queen? He has no Queen, not in this day and age. Regina, Regina, Regina.

It's as if a haze comes over him, makes him numb again from the inside out. Emma Swan had made him feel, had brought out the _worst_ in him. _The best,_ his heart protests, _she always brought out the best-_

How could a woman who wants to take Henry away from his home be the best? How could he have been so blinded by her beauty and presence that he never saw past the façade? 

He does not love Emma Swan. He feels nothing for her. She doesn't even muster up the feeling of _hatred_ in him. 

_Liar_ , his heart tells him.

He picks himself back up off of the floor and goes back to shaving. _You will forget that this happened, Huntsman._

So, he does.

* * *

 _Em-ma, Em-ma, Em-ma._  
  
It truly is infuriating. Even after all her commands... her orders for him not to love her or care, his heart still beats for her. Regina lowers the heart from her lips, glowering down at it before putting it back in its box and locking it away.

She's losing control and she can _feel_ it. If there's many things Regina doesn't enjoy, it's losing her control over things she considers hers. Henry, this town, her Huntsman. And all because of that damned Emma Swan.

She exits the mausoleum, unaware of the mismatched eyes watching her from the treeline. 

Regina never stops by Graham's apartment, but tonight, she'll make an exception. Tonight, she needs to reassert her control, remind Graham that there are no choices in this life, not for him. 

"Regina?" he asks, confused when he opens the door and finds her there. "Is something the matter, is Henry-?" she cuts him off with a bruising kiss. He stiffens beneath her hands, which are making quick work of his jeans. He never used to stiffen up like that before. He used to hesitate, just a little, with a look in his eyes that made her content. That look of knowing he had _no_ control over the situation. She's the one in control, the one who decides what they do and when they do it; whether he wants to or not. And she'd have it no other way.

"Stop talking and touch me," she commands, and he nods stiffly, unease in his eyes as his hands rest on her hips. "And take your damn pants off." 

He obeys. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which baby Henry brings out some emotion in Graham, and where Emma hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a kind of filler chapter! I wanted to write a little bit about past Emma and Graham, and most importantly, baby Henry! More plot stuff will be coming!

** 10 years ago **

"I can't stand it anymore!" Regina hisses, as her infant son keeps crying in his baby carrier. She hasn't slept a wink in _days_. Newborns weren't meant to be so... surely they weren't meant to cry _this_ much? "What do you need?! I've given you everything I can think of!" bottles, soothing, naps, dummies... the list was never ending.

And yet Henry continued to cry. Well... he paused, hiccuped, and then went back to crying. 

Perhaps it _should_ make Regina more sad at the nonstop crying. But if anything, it just makes her angry.

She sighs, checks her reflection in the mirror, before leaving the house with Henry. He falls silent at the change of scenery.

"Oh, you're finally showing mercy?" she asks him, and a whimper escapes him, as if he's threatening to cry again. She promptly shuts her mouth as she stalks to Granny's, sitting at a table and setting Henry on the seat opposite her.

"Well, hello handsome," comes the coo of Ruby, peering into Henry's baby carrier. He wiggles a little at the sight of a new face, a little huff escaping him.

"You know my order by now, I presume?" Regina asks, arching her brow at the woman.

Ruby glances away from the baby, barely concealing the disdain in her eyes. "Course. Just thought I'd say hello to Henry." she bites out, before smiling sweetly and turning on her heel, scribbling Regina's order down as she goes... honestly, could the girl be anymore underdressed? Regina rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath about that.

"Don't you go around repeating such things." she tells Henry, who shoves his fist in his mouth and sucks on it. 

It's not the first time she's come to Granny's with Henry. More often than not, he was crying for most of the visits and Regina would quickly exit. She saw the pitying looks people threw her. And how _dare_ they? If only they knew-

Henry bursts into tears again, and Regina growls, rubbing her face. Patience had never been in her nature. And patience, she was coming to understand, was a large part of parenthood. 

"Well, I'll give you that, dearie," comes that ever so annoying, smug voice. "He's certainly got a set of lungs on him." Mr Gold says, giving her a tight smile. "Parenthood not quite living up to your expectations?" he asks innocently, leaning on his cane. 

"Oh, it's just meeting them point for point." she snarls, reaching over to Henry to try and sooth him. He cries even harder. 

"Glad to hear it." he says, reaching into the baby carrier to absentmindedly fix Henry's hat. His crying stops a moment, before starting up again. "Really, Madame Mayor, truly impressive lungs." 

The door chimes open and in enters Graham, whose eyes immediately dart to the crying infant before looking away. "Mr Gold, Madame Mayor." he greets, giving them a nod before making his way to the counter.

"Ah, Sheriff!" Mr Gold calls out, and Graham turns on his heel, a brow arched as if to say 'yes?'. "Would you mind at all looking after dear young Henry for a moment? I daresay our new mother here deserves a bit of a break."  
  
"What?" comes Regina's indignant squawk. "Absolutely not-"

"Now dearie," he gives her a sickly sweet smile. "New parents rarely get much peace and quiet, and I believe you deserve a quick hour or so to yourself-"

"I do need to get back to the station by nine-" Graham starts, and Mr Gold silences him with a look.

"I'm sure the crime rings running rampant in Storybrooke will wait, Sheriff." he looks back to Regina, who's now regarding him with suspicion. "Madame Mayor, you won't get a lot of opportunities for breaks. And, I also had a querie I wished to pick your brain about."

Regina glowers at him, then at Graham- who looks like he's about to bolt out the door, or launch himself out of a window- before grimacing and standing up. "Fine. No more than an hour-" Graham opens his mouth to say something, but Regina narrows her eyes. "-you will stay here for that hour, Sheriff. Henry," her voice softens as she reaches out and brushes her fingers along his petal soft cheek. "Mother will be back soon. Lead the way." she tells Mr Gold, who smiles thinly and heads for the door.

He opens it for her, and she heads out, waiting for him before speaking. "What are you _planning_ -"

"Most new parents would be thrilled at an hour long break." he tells her wryly, mirth in his eyes. "And yet, here you are-"

"What are you _planning_?" she repeats, taking a step closer.

"Absolutely nothing, Madame Mayor." he says, and she looks at him, before scowling and starting to stalk off in the direction of his pawn shop. He glances back behind him into the windowed door, watching the Sheriff awkwardly lift out Henry from his baby carrier, holding him close and trying to sooth his cries. There's a warmth in the Sheriff's eyes that Gold hasn't _ever_ recalled seeing in the man. Young Henry seems to fall silent in the man's hold, eyes drooping until he falls asleep. 

"Absolutely nothing at all." he murmurs to himself, tapping his cane against the ground before making his way to the pawn shop.

* * *

Graham stares after Regina and Gold, feeling more... confused than anything else. Why leave _him_ with a _baby_? Graham Humbert, bachelor and lover of dogs, who had most definitely never even been in the same room as a baby.

"...Suppose it's just you and me, then." he tells the baby, who hiccups and then gurgles. An odd feeling wells up inside of him. He takes a moment, before reaching out and undoing the many buckles securing Henry into the baby carrier. Perhaps it would be best to just leave the boy in his carrier and hope to god he just falls asleep. But... instinct seems to win out- an instinct Graham has definitely never felt before- and he's carefully lifting Henry out of his carrier, taking a moment how to figure out how to hold him correctly.

Supporting the head? That was something he knew you had to do. He adjusts Henry, making sure his neck and head are properly supported. Henry whimpers at the action, and Graham shushes him, holding him a little closer and idly rocking the baby. "Sorry, Henry," he apologises, and the baby blinks up at him with his large, curious eyes. "This is alright, isn't it, lad?" he asks, moving to sit down in the seat Regina had just vacated. Henry lets out a little noise, one of his hands reaching up to grip onto Graham's vest with a surprisingly tight grip. The action makes him smile a little, and his usual numbness and watered down feelings... they go to the backseat for a breath, because what Graham feels in that moment is pure, unfiltered... pride?

"That's a little pathetic of me," he murmurs, laughing softly. Henry blinks up at him. "I must be hitting that age where I consider my own children." he says with a roll of his eyes. Not likely to happen any time soon for him. No, he's perfectly content with his single lifestyle- if you don't count the occasional visit to the Mayor's bedroom- and with looking after the dogs at the shelter. It's more than enough for him.

But, as he looks down into Henry's rapidly tiring eyes, as he watches the boy yawn- which, by the way, might be the cutest damn thing he's ever seen- and as he adjusts the boys mittens... he can't help but wonder what it would be like. Settling down, having a family to call his own.

He pictures the mother of his children as Regina, which makes him muffle a snort. Not at all likely in the goddamn slightest. He... isn't entirely too sure if any of the other women in town catch his attention. Ruby, sometimes, but she wasn't the settling down type, and to be fair, neither was Graham at the present time. 

He pictures a woman with a warm smile, with long hair he could tangle his fingers in, a woman with a way of captivating his attention even with just a few words or a mere look. Henry yawns again, and Graham glances down at him, smiling as the boy's eyes close, finally asleep. A woman who would be fiercely caring, he decides. He can think up the rest of this pretend and imaginary perfect woman.

He quietly gives his order to Ruby, all the while keeping Henry securely tucked in one arm. 

When Regina returns, she can't help but feel _jealousy_ at the sight of the Huntsman and her son. How casually and easily Graham seems to take to looking after her son. How Henry is peacefully silent for him. 

"He'll make a good father one day." Granny sighs as she makes her way past Regina, who glowers after her. Apparently men being good with babies was attractive, judging by half of the goddamn stares Graham was oblivious he was getting. 

Pathetic, if you asked Regina. 

She takes the sleeping Henry from Graham and puts him back into his carrier, giving him a muttered thanks before leaving the diner. 

Graham can't help the frown that comes to his lips, that terrible feeling of numbness creeping back up on him. He downs the rest of his coffee, trying not to think about it for too long. 

How he longed to escape the emptiness inside of him. And how thankful he was that young Henry gave him some slight reprieve. He could only hope that someday... someday it would vanish entirely, with or without anyone's help.

* * *

Elsewhere, a seventeen- almost eighteen now- year old Emma Swan lies on her cot, staring at the bunk above her. Her cellmate sleeps peacefully... and loudly. God, those snores could shake the damn walls.

She ghosts her hands over her stomach, which was slowly getting slimmer and back to normal as time went on. Sometimes, she swore she still felt the phantom kicks from her baby. Her son.

 _No_. Not hers. She signed away those rights. And it was a good decision. Emma Swan was not fit to raise a child, and she never would be. She'd just... mess the kid up or something, give it a fuckton of issues that he'd likely have to sort out in therapy years later.

Still, a part of her wonders... if she'd changed her mind, or if she'd even decided to hold him- _No_.

She wouldn't allow those thoughts. They were dangerous. Those thoughts hurt her more than anything Neal had done to her, or anything anyone else could do to her. All she could do was hope that the baby went to a loving family and never wound up in the foster care system.

Emma Swan had never hoped much these past couple of years... but she could hope for that, at least. And most importantly, she hoped the kid's hopes were never crushed as he grew up.

 _Let him hope, and let him believe, please,_ she begs to any goddamn god or deity out there. She'd never been the religious type, but for her so- _the baby,_ she would resort to it. _Don't let anything crush him like I have been. Let him be loved_.

* * *

Graham locks the door to his apartment, kicking off his boots and tossing his keys onto his entryway table. It'd been a long, boring and numb day. Nothing unusual, really.

He sinks into his couch, thinking back on baby Henry Mills. Funny how the boy had brought out the _very_ dormant paternal instincts in him. It had been interesting, to say the least. And it had certainly gotten him thinking about his own future regarding settling down... which, in all honesty, was not something he thought of a lot.

He runs his hand through his hair, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. It was a curious interaction with Henry, and truthfully, he'd been sad to see him go home. He drums his fingers on his chest, pondering just why the hell he was so stuck on this morning.

Perhaps it was the universes way of telling him something. He snickers at the thought. He'd never been into 'spiritual' things beyond believing in respecting nature.

A trait leftover from his life from oh so long ago. Not that Graham knew that then, of course.


End file.
